i have nothing to wear

sometimes life is just about wearing
clothes because you have to, and
sometimes they speak to you like
small children sitting inside your
head space, complicating thoughts.
getting dressed is a dilemma some
mornings, with stripes and solids
and blues and greens and burnt
orange mustard yellow black and
brown screaming and competing,
shoving little hands into your face,
hoping you’ll pick them, them, them.
but other days it’s just enough to
pick up a shirt, slide on jeans, check
for stains and matching and socks
and bra and underwear, put on shoes
and head out the door. to be a woman,
to have so many goddamn choices
in fashion or lack thereof . . . do
not envy us, nor pity us or laugh
in our faces, because sometimes
you just have to listen to what’s
not being said when getting
up in the morning and allow
the clothes to speak for themselves.